GENRE: YA Science-Fiction Romance
My nametag pin would probably make a fairly effective weapon. It was quite pointy. And the employee handbook was pretty damn heavy. Yes, if someone tried paying me again with flesh eating currency, I would be more than ready.
I prided myself in being something of a ninja-action-hero, thanks to my work at The Wyborg Supercenter #5279 customer service desk. Pre-Contract human high school would have never gotten me thinking about all the common objects that could be turned into weaponry, and it was a skill that was decidedly to my advantage to have. Once everything went back to normal, I decided, I would consider joining the CIA.
I was busy wondering whether I would be able to snap off a leg of the desk in a pinch, when two customers approached my desk.
“Ingrid,” said one member of the alien pair. They glittered in the shadowy fluorescent light like disco balls, which made it rather difficult to listen to what they had to say.
“Can I help you?”
“Ingrid, could you explain my wife that this,” he bent over, and placed on the desk an old toaster oven, “is not a communication device?”
“It’s a toaster oven, miss,” I said. I was fascinated by the way their hands appeared encrusted with some deep blue stone.
“But what does it do?” the other crystalline being asked, stroking the side of the oven like a puppy. Was it difficult for them to bend their fingers?
“It…it makes toast, miss.”